‘Maybe you need lessons in seduction.’
‘From you?’
Jed grinned. ‘I’ve never seduced anyone in my life. Julieanne would be a better bet. Every bloke seems to fall for her in ten seconds flat.’
‘But what if it still didn’t work?’ asked Scarlett softly.
‘Then . . .’ Jed stopped as Maxi erupted from under the highchair. She galloped towards the front door with the single woof that meant, ‘Take notice, or I will bark again.’
‘Visitors,’ said Scarlett. And not familiar ones, or Maxi would have only given a huff and kept waiting for crumbs. ‘I’ll get it.’
Jed heard her wheel down the corridor to the front door and then the now-familiar tones of Detective Rodrigues, the apologetic ones of Constable Ryan. Mattie gave the grunt that meant she was dirtying her nappy. Change her now, or monitor the interview?
No question. Jed followed them into the living room, a slightly whiffy Mattie on her hip and a dog chewing a soggy crust at her heels. ‘Good morning. Tea or coffee?’ And there were squished-fly biscuits to offer them now.
‘Mrs McAlpine.’ Detective Rodrigues gave her a polite nod. ‘No, thank you. I’ve just finished breakfast.’ Behind him, Constable Ryan loomed large and looked slightly worried. Not good, Jed thought. If Will Ryan was worried, then the detective must be seriously considering that Sam had caused Merv’s death. Or that she had.
‘I hope you don’t mind us appearing like this. We’d just like to confirm a few things with your sister,’ said the detective.
The Gibber’s Creek grapevine must have let them know Scarlett was going to be here with its usual efficiency. Jed nodded warily. She sat, hoping no one else could smell the full nappy on her lap. Maxi sprawled in the doorway, her nose to the intruders.
‘You’re looking . . . more rested,’ said Detective Rodrigues.
‘Yes, I am. Thank you,’ said Jed. The house was even more of a mess than earlier in the week, the newspapers Joseph had begun to bring out to her piled on an armchair, the toy lion Maxi had appropriated from Mattie’s collection sitting soggily under the sofa, plus a jam-stained Mattie, whose nappy might ooze at any minute after all the pumpkin she’d had for yesterday’s dinner.
But this was a different kind of mess, a lived-in one, not the mess that comes from not caring. Life could change so quickly, she thought. Tragedy in seconds, back to life in days . . .
‘Miss Kelly-O’Hara,’ began Detective Rodrigues.
‘Scarlett,’ said Scarlett, smiling at Will Ryan, obviously trying to make him less uncomfortable. He gave her a grateful smile back.
‘I wonder if you’d mind running through the events of that afternoon again?’ The detective ignored the look from Constable Ryan that clearly said, ‘You know all this.’
‘Of course,’ said Scarlett. ‘I left here about two o’clock. Jed was going to follow me in her car, but she was to go to the Blue Belle Café to rest there while I went to the hall to help with the evacuees — supply first aid, that sort of stuff. The smoke was so thick it was hard to see much, wasn’t it?’ She appealed to Constable Ryan for confirmation.
‘Couldn’t see much further than your outstretched hand,’ he agreed. He gave the detective a pointed look. ‘Impossible to imagine if you’ve never experienced it.’
Scarlett nodded. ‘I assumed Jed was driving just behind me. I don’t know what time it was when Carol told me Jed hadn’t got to the café. She and Dr McAlpine and I came straight back here. Jed was about to give birth . . .’ She grinned at her sister.
Jed grinned back. Impossible not to. It had been a day of horror and terror, and enduring labour alone in a bushfire was not something she’d recommend. But that miraculous moment of birth, shared with Scarlett . . .
‘I delivered Mattie,’ said Scarlett with deep pride. ‘Dr McAlpine ran back to his ute for his bag. He . . . tidied things up.’
The afterbirth, thought Jed, although that was not something the police needed to know.
‘It must have been incredible,’ said William Ryan.
Scarlett smiled at him again. ‘The most magical moment in my life,’ she agreed. ‘Then Sam and the fire truck arrived a few minutes later from fighting the fire up at Rocky Valley. He came to the hospital with us. Carol went with the fire crew.’
‘How was your sister after the baby was born?’ asked Detective Rodrigues.
‘Happy,’ said Scarlett, her face still sharing the joy of that moment.
‘Was there anything odd or unexpected you noticed that afternoon?’ he asked casually.
Jed could see the moment Scarlett realised there was something she had never thought to question back then.
Because when Scarlett arrived, Jed had been wet. River wet, with burns on her legs and arms. Mild burns, but still more than she might have got from a few minutes outside, and wetter than she should have been if she’d just been out when the hose sprinkler system was on.
And no one had questioned it. Not then, with Mattie’s birth and Andy’s death and so much work and tragedy. Not till now.
‘Yes. Jed was screaming and in pain, then exhausted and happy. You try giving birth in a bushfire,’ said Scarlett tartly.
Detective Rodrigues looked from her to Jed. He seemed to accept he’d get no other answer. ‘Did you see Mr Mervyn or his car on the way out?’
Jed sat very still. Because this was it. She hadn’t asked — couldn’t ask — Scarlett to lie for her. But once the police knew Merv had been hanging around the house, they would suspect her even more. Jed could tell that Scarlett was carefully trying not to lie. Could the police see that too?
‘I was focusing on the road. It was so hard to drive that day . . .’
‘Yes, we’ve heard,’ said the detective impatiently.
Thank you, Scarlett, thought Jed, forcing herself not to look at her sister. Thank you, thank you . . .
‘Did you see Mr Mervyn’s car when you rushed back from town looking for your sister?’
‘I wasn’t looking,’ said Scarlett truthfully. ‘All we could really think about was Jed. I noticed a burned-out car the next day, but there was no way to tell the car’s colour and I’m not interested in cars, so I didn’t register the model. I truly didn’t think of Merv again till weeks after the fire, and then just to realise he hadn’t been around. I assumed he’d left the district.’
‘Have you any idea who might have wanted him dead?’
Will Ryan snorted, then tried to change it to a cough.
‘Yep,’ said Scarlett. ‘Me, Jed, Sam, Nancy, Michael, Blue, all the blokes in the fire truck, Carol, Leafsong, everyone at the factory, everyone who loves Jed. Probably Jed’s stepmother too, and a dozen other women.’
Scarlett met the detective’s gaze. ‘But if you’re thinking we thought up an elaborate plan to get rid of him in the bushfire confusion, think again. We couldn’t have known Merv would be anywhere near here, not on a day like that. He was an idiot.’
‘Someone might have phoned him and asked him to come out here,’ suggested the detective.
‘They might have, but not from here or Drinkwater or Overflow that afternoon. The phone lines were down. And no one would think he’d be stupid enough to come. Look, couldn’t it just have been an accident? He might just have been sheltering in the church.’
‘Not tied up,’ said the detective shortly. He took a breath. ‘You can’t help any more in any way?’
Scarlett met his eyes. ‘No.’
He stood. ‘Thank you, Miss . . . Scarlett.’
Will Ryan nodded sympathetically when the detective was out in the hall. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘He shouldn’t be pestering you like this. There’s no way any of your family could be involved in this. He just won’t believe me.’
‘Constable?’
‘Coming.’ Will gave them another apologetic nod and followed him out, Maxi at his heels, sitting on the veranda till the car was out of sight.
Chapter 22
Revolution
in Iran
The Iranian Army has withdrawn to its barracks, leaving power in the hands of Ayatollah Khomeini. The Ayatollah returned to Iran after nearly 15 years in exile earlier this month, and now creates a new republic, ending the Pahlavi dynasty. The Ayatollah’s supporters have taken over Iranian law enforcement and the courts, as well as all government administration.
JED
A clean nappy, a quiet feed in the bedroom and Mattie was asleep. Jed found Scarlett in the kitchen, the breakfast dishes washed and two mugs of tea on the table. Jed sat and drank, trying to stop her hands trembling. ‘Thank you. I . . . there’s no way to thank you enough.’
‘It’s not like my seeing Merv that afternoon can make any difference,’ said Scarlett. She seemed to be trying to convince herself too. ‘The police know he must have been around here, or he couldn’t have been burned in the church.’
Jed nodded. She sipped her tea in silence.
‘Well?’ asked Scarlett at last. ‘You didn’t just walk back to Dribble when you ran off the road the day of the bushfire, did you?’
‘No,’ said Jed.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Sam. No one asked,’ said Jed. ‘So I didn’t say anything.’
‘You should have.’
‘Yes, I should have. I should have asked for help months ago too. And I have learned my lesson and will be a good girl.’
‘So? Tell me now.’ The words ‘You owe me that much’ were left unspoken.
Jed took a breath. A good breath, rich with the faint smell of omelette and baby and warm dog. Scarlett sat quietly in her wheelchair as she explained how she had tried to get to Overflow, but had been blocked there too, the desperate dash through the fire, the miraculous Driza-Bone, the frantic swim up the river. ‘And then I reached the firebreak and made it here. You know the rest.’
Scarlett was pale. ‘I . . . I had no idea . . .’
Jed shrugged. ‘Maybe nightmares are best not shared. Please don’t tell anyone. Please.’
‘Of course I won’t. You’ve been keeping all this to yourself! No wonder it’s been so bad for you. Just a nightmare.’ She paused, then added carefully, ‘You didn’t wonder what had happened to Merv after you ran into the fire?’
‘I wondered for a while if they might find his body near the billabong. When they didn’t, I assumed he’d got back to town somehow. Who on earth would put him in a church? It’s . . .’
‘Kinky,’ said Scarlett.
‘What do you mean?’
Scarlett looked at her steadily. ‘Sam and the boys might have had a go at him. No, I wouldn’t say that to the police, but you know it’s true. But Sam and the boys wouldn’t have put Merv in that church to burn to death. They wouldn’t put him in a church, period. You and Sam were married in that church. There’s no way he’d . . . pollute it . . . with Merv.’
Jed tried to smile. ‘I don’t think the detective would accept that as evidence.’
‘But you know it’s true,’ said Scarlett.
‘Yes,’ said Jed quietly. ‘But there’s no getting around it. I had the opportunity to kill Merv that day. It’s funny — the detective and Will seem to assume I couldn’t have done it because I was nine months’ pregnant. But the one thing I know I could kill for would be to protect Mattie’s life. Maybe Sam would have felt like that too. But he and the boys couldn’t have got through on the Overflow road till after the church burned. And apart from you and Dr McAlpine and Carol, there was no reason for anyone else to be here.’
‘It wasn’t us,’ said Scarlett, trying to smile.
‘I know. And anyway, the church must have burned before you got here.’
‘And Sam would never have put Merv in the church.’
Jed nodded. Her sister had accepted without question that the only time Jed could ever try to kill someone would be to save those she loved. She must know as well as Jed did that Sam too would do whatever was necessary to save his family.
But he wouldn’t have had to kill Merv to do that; nor had he the opportunity. And none of them would ever have put a body in the church.
Chapter 23
China Invades Vietnam
The People’s Republic of China has invaded North Vietnam, citing mistreatment of Vietnam’s ethnic Chinese minority and the Vietnamese occupation of the Spratly Islands, which are claimed by China.
It is estimated that 80,000 soldiers and 300 banks have crossed the boarder into northern Vietnam.
FISH
The Greats had said ‘no’ to a mural in the bedroom, but Blue had agreed to one on the woodshed, and Great-Uncle Joseph had even bought the paint and brushes needed for such a big work.
Fish had finished it late Thursday, an image of the woodshed itself, and then a smaller one on its side, and an even tinier mural of yet another minute woodshed on that. Fish didn’t go in for detail — except sometimes teeth. She worked fast.
She had a feeling the Greats had been hoping for a painting of birds or trees or kelpies, but how could she paint what she didn’t understand? A woodshed was just a woodshed.
Thankfully, after the initial shock, the old people had even seemed to appreciate it. Fish wondered what she should paint on the other wall as she bicycled between the brown-lawned gardens to the Gibber’s Creek Nursing Home.
Fish had once visited a nursing home in Brisbane with Gran, to see one of Gran’s friends there. It had smelled of urine and talcum powder, with oldies in flowered brunch coats or striped dressing gowns propped up on chairs along the corridor, doped up on sleeping tablets, Gran said. Gran was horrified for her friend, too disabled by a stroke to manage by herself. She’d arranged home help for her, to get out of there.
The Gibber’s Creek Nursing Home was different. One wing of the hospital opened onto a wide veranda overlooking gravel paths and garden and the distant flicker of the river. The nurse escorted her to a vast cushioned armchair with an extended leg rest, covered by a gaudy knitted patchwork blanket. Fish had to blink to make out the shape of a tiny woman in its depths.
‘Visitor for you, lovey!’ said the nurse loudly. ‘Don’t worry if she doesn’t recognise you,’ she added more quietly to Fish. ‘She lives in the past these days. But she does love visitors.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fish. There was no need to add that Mrs Lee couldn’t possibly recognise her. The nurse had taken one look at Fish’s Asian features and assumed Fish was a relative, a great-great-granddaughter perhaps.
Fish had pondered on how to bring up the subject of the bodies in the church. Eventually she decided to be direct, mostly because she had no experience in being indirect.
‘Mrs Lee?’ she said softly.
The faded brown eyes, sunk in a delta of wrinkles, opened and blinked at her.
‘They’ve found the bodies,’ said Fish quietly. She’d spent ages working out how to get people to start remembering. Finally she had decided that a statement might make people react better than a question. ‘The ones of the missing people.’
‘Ah.’ The tiny face didn’t move. It took Fish almost a minute to realise tears were falling down the sunken cheeks.
Panic seized her. She’d done it again. Fish had only hoped that a woman Mrs Lee’s age would know who had gone missing. She had never thought that anything she said would bring the kind of anguish she could hear in that single cry. I just don’t think, she told herself. Or not far enough . . .
‘I’m sorry.’ Fish took the papery hand with its snake-like veins in hers. ‘I . . . I didn’t mean to hurt you. It . . . it was a long time ago.’
‘How did they find them?’ whispered Mrs Lee.
‘It doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t . . .’
‘Have they buried them again? Properly? Planted trees for them, left food?’
Fish had no idea what had happened to any of the bodies from the church. Had never thought about it. Possibly they were in a morgue somewhere, or wherever forensic pathologists worked. But she just said
, ‘They are fine now.’ Which was not a lie, because bones were . . . bones . . . and wherever they were, she was sure they’d be properly looked after.
Excitement suddenly fizzed. Was it possible it was as easy as this? The first person she asked knew the secret?
The small thin hand clutched hers. ‘We were from the same village. Six young women. So hopeful when the letter came from Australia. Six husbands waiting for us here, all with land and houses, and money to send home to our families.’
‘In China?’
A nod, an unpronounceable name. Fish wondered if it was a village or province.
‘It was at night,’ Mrs Lee whispered. ‘A storm, the rain as hard as rice. The captain ordered us on deck when it got dark. We didn’t understand. Shoved us into a tiny boat, despite the rain, the waves, with one man to row. Secret. Must be secret. We didn’t know . . .’
‘We left in secret,’ Dad had said, the only time he had ever spoken of the voyage he took to Australia a year ago. No! She mustn’t think of Dad now. Dad! How was he ‘Dad’? How could someone be your father when you hadn’t seen him for most of your life?
She had to focus on the tiny woman next to her. Fish tried to calculate Mrs Lee’s age and when she must have come here. Whenever it was, it would have been during the days of the White Australia Policy. No Chinese allowed into Australia, no Asians at all, no one with coloured skin, a trick test — ‘must be able to take dictation in any given language’ — to keep out anyone who wasn’t Anglo-Saxon. The law hadn’t been repealed till 1966. If it hadn’t been, Dad never would have been allowed into Australia, would never have disturbed their lives . . .
‘Could see the beach,’ whispered Mrs Lee. ‘White, even in the night. The waves roared us up, then crashed us down. But we could see the sand hills and the shore. So close. We were so nearly there! And then one wave. It crashed on us. The water sucked me down. Down, down, down, then threw me back, onto the sand. I could not breathe! I felt the water grab me again.
‘But a man’s hand snatched mine. More hands dragged me up, up onto the sand. It was my Micah, my Micah and the other husbands, waiting on the beach for us.
The Last Dingo Summer Page 13